


After Hours in the Conservatory

by Silex



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Extremely Dubious Consent, Flowers, Fucked by an Awapuhi Inspired Cock, Multi, Other, Plants, Plants make things weird okay?, Sex Pollen, Teratophilia, Weird Biology, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: When Paul was the one who ended up staying after hours at the conservatory in the winter to keep an eye on the place during a storm, he got to hear plenty of stories about how the place was haunted, that sometimes small objects would be moved, that the scent of flowers not in bloom would fill the air, and unseen things would rustle through the leaves.He didn't believe those stories though, because things like that didn't really happen, did they?Maybe he'd seen and heard some strange things, but there was always a reasonable explanation, or so he'd thought...
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	After Hours in the Conservatory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elijah_was_a_prophet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elijah_was_a_prophet/gifts).



Years ago the conservatory had been built in the park, the money for the project and the first plants there provided by a wealthy eccentric as a place to house his collection of exotic plants.

The man was now long dead, but many of the plants he’d provided remained, some mundane, some decidedly not so.

Of course the collection had been expanded to over the years and when the man had died funds were given so that the building could be expanded, to house the rest of his collection as well as any new additions that might come.

The conservatory was open to the public, of course, because what good were exotic plants and flowers if no one could see them?

The conservatory was carefully separated into different rooms based on the needs of the different plants, though sometimes there were plants placed in contradictory places, ‘because they like it there’ as the more seasoned members of the staff would explain when asked.

Paul, new to working at the conservatory, assumed that it was for convenience or because some of the plants were too large to easily move and had shrugged when given seemingly ritualized answers. There were some things that you just didn’t question.

Of course, when he was the one who ended up staying after hours come winter, to keep an eye on the place during a storm, he got to hear plenty of stories about how the place was haunted, that sometimes small objects would be moved, that the scent of flowers not in bloom would fill the air, and unseen things would rustle through the leaves.

Shy George, as the staff members called the _Mimosa pudica,_ kept carefully out of the way so that guests wouldn’t touch it, would occasionally fold its leaves without anyone being near it. Something that happened often enough that Paul, even in his short time there, had seen it happen.

One minute he was making sure that all of the plants in the seasonal display were properly watered, the next Shy George was folding all of its leaves despite him being on the opposite end of the room.

Mice, was what he assumed, or rats, since there were plenty of places for them to hide amid the plants, but there were other seeming impossibilities of the place.

The century plant had supposedly survived after blooming, and Paul had to admit that replacing the gigantic agave in secrecy would have been impossible.

The _Nepenthes rajah_ in its wide and shallow pot, amid all of the other marsh plants was notorious for ending up with strange things in its pitchers, not just insects and things dropped in by inconsiderate visitors, but things that defied explanation. It had caught more than its share of birds and a bat once, though Paul was glad he hadn’t been around for that, if the story was even true. He had needed to fish what he’d assumed was a piece of plastic out of a particularly large pitcher, only to discover that it was a badly corroded looking piece of bone.

And the bonsai trees, the less said about them the better. Paul wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like them at all. Especially the oldest of them, which was supposedly over a hundred years old, with a long convoluted story about the previous owners it had survived.

There was a perfect miniature shrine in its pot that supposedly had just shown up there overnight.

Because of course it was easier to believe that than to imagine that someone had put it there as a joke.

Paul hadn’t complained about the night shift, it was a chance to catch up on his reading and studying for classes come Monday. Staying in the office of the conservatory was much quieter than the dorms, which were growing louder and louder as the end of the semester approached.

And it wasn’t as though it was a boring job either, he was expected to walk a lap of the conservatory every so often to make sure that the temperature was holding steady, that none of the window panes managed to break and that no stray drafts were getting in to disturb the delicate tropicals, some of which were far from delicate.

He’d had to help repot the angle’s trumpet a week earlier and in as much as a plant could fight, it had felt like the thing was fighting him. Severely root bound, it had been necessary to cut away a good portion of its root ball, which he had been told would be good practice for him if he ever needed to take care of the bonsai trees, something he sincerely hoped to avoid. Every time he went through the bonsai room he felt like he was being watched.

On the other hand the tropical orchids and epiphytes were a pleasure.

It seemed like there was always an orchid in bloom somewhere in the conservatory, for they all had their specific places, based on the unique ‘likes’ of each plant that had to be carefully taken into account, or else they wouldn’t rebloom when the time came.

It wasn’t Paul’s place to ask why the trio of _Bulbophyllum medusae_ , affectionately named Stheno, Euryale and Queenie had to be kept so that they could ‘see each other’, which meant that moving one of their pots created an interesting game of musical chairs to keep them all ‘happy’. He just did as told and consoled himself that getting paid to take care of plants wasn’t the hardest job imaginable, even if there were odd rules that he needed to obey.

One of those rules was that he was supposed to stay away from the recently added awapuhi plant for the time being because it was ‘acting weird’.

No one could explain what that was even supposed to mean, but Cathy had said it one day and everyone agreed on it, even though the plant had sent up several flower heads. The rugose clubs were, at the moment, green and resolutely sealed despite the occasional sweet scent that would waft through the conservatory

As though in response to his thinking about it, the smell of the awapuhi reached him, stronger than ever despite him being two rooms away.

The sparse, unseasonal, leaves of the shaving brush tree shook violently, branches rattling as though in a strong breeze.

Paul swore softly to himself, and then again, louder as there was no one around to hear him, sure that one of the glass panes had broken and a breeze was blowing in. He’d been warned about that happening, how during a wind storm several years ago over a dozen panes of glass had shattered.

Repairs weren’t something he could manage himself, but there was a ladder and plastic sheeting in the storage closet and he’d be able to rig up a temporary fix that would hopefully last through the night until something better could be done in the morning.

Of course first he had to find which pane of glass had broken. Hopefully not too much of it, if any had ended up in amid the plants themselves, because cleaning that up would be a nightmare and the last thing he needed was for it to be his fault if a visitor, who shouldn’t have been touching the plants to begin with, to cut themselves of broken glass.

Walking into the next room, where the bonsai trees were housed, along with a large collection of fairly ordinary houseplants, Paul looked up.

The air was still, the sky above utterly black.

No broken glass there.

Movement caught his eye, the hiss of pine needles

He looked back down at the bonsai trees, worried that some animal had made it inside. If it hurt one of the plants, especially one of the bonsai trees he was going to be in so much trouble.

The Bodhi tree with its little shrine was facing the wrong way.

Its pot had been rotated so that the wrong side of it was facing forward towards where guests would see.

Carefully Paul put his hands on the ornate clay pot and pushed.

It didn’t move.

The tree was far heavier than it looked.

“Alright,” he said to himself, taking a step back, “I can do this.”

Pine needles hissed, but this time there was no breeze.

It had to be an animal, in with the bonsai trees, which was almost as bad as a pane of glass breaking.

He searched the room thoroughly, but other than the Bodhi tree having been turned around, nothing had been disturbed.

An animal couldn’t have done that, not when he hadn’t been able to move the thing on his first attempt, which raised a disturbing possibility – that there was someone else in the conservatory with him.

One by one he checked the doors, starting with the emergency exits. They were all closed, with no sign of having been opened. Several, including the one in the tropical room where the awapuhi was located, had snow drifted up against the outside.

He’d needed to push past the awapuhi to check the door there and the scent of it was heavy in the air. Despite the smell the plant still hadn’t started to bloom.

Last he checked the main doors and was relieved to find that they were locked. He’d done that himself after Ryan had left for the night and if the main doors had been opened he wasn’t sure what he’d have done. Probably stayed by them and called the cops, because dealing with trespassers wasn’t what he was being paid for.

For his own peace of mind he checked his belt loop and wasn’t at all surprised to find that the keys were still there. That meant that unless a coworker was playing a prank on him, which didn’t seem likely, no one could have gotten in after they’d closed.

Of course if they’d come in during open hours and not left, which wasn’t as unlikely as it sounded, they could still be in the building.

Years back some kid had found a quiet corner behind one of the more densely planted areas and taken a nap. Their parents had assumed that they’d run out of the place and the park had been searched. It wasn’t until night, when one of the staff was using the phone in the conservatory’s little office, that the kid was found, walking blearily up to the front desk, having finally woken up. After that they’d trimmed back some of the plants and spaced the potted displays out far enough that it was unlikely anyone could hide.

In addition to those precautions he and Ryan had each done a lap of the place, going in opposite directions, checking each room, including the bathrooms because that was something Ryan was paranoid about, that someone would be in the bathrooms.

Thinking of Ryan, he finished up by checking the bathrooms one last time.

No one.

Of course.

If he heard leaves moving as he checked the woman’s restroom, it was only in his imagination. What wasn’t his imagination was the smell of the awapuhi. Somehow it had permeated even there and in the confines of the bathroom the scent was suffocating.

Head spinning Paul leaned against the sink, slumping forward so that his forehead pressed against the cool glass. It helped clear his head, as did splashing water on his face, which was a start, enough that he realized that he felt feverish.

That at least might explain things. If he was coming down with something no wonder he felt jumpy and out of sorts.

Except that didn’t explain the bonsai tree moving.

“One more lap of the place,” Paul said to himself, “Then I can sit down and read or study or something.”

Saying it out loud made it real. There was nothing for him to worry about, just his imagination playing tricks on him because it was night and the wind outside was loud.

And getting louder by the minute.

Despite the warmth of the conservatory the sound cut him and made him shiver.

He was glad that he wasn’t out in that weather, that was for sure.

Slowly he made his way back into the conservatory proper, starting in the room with the water garden and bog plants.

It was the one room where movement wasn’t unexpected. An insect might land on one of the sundews at any time, their glistening leaves curling around it. In the horse trough that had been fashioned into a miniature pond sleeping goldfish drifted between lily pad stalks and lotus plants.

Cathy claimed that a large toad lived in that room as well, so when the pitcher plants seemed to nod as he walked by Paul dismissed it.

He was looking for people, not frogs, though he still watched his step carefully. Jumpy as he was, the last thing he needed was a surprise of any kind.

There was nothing other than the omnipresent scent of the awapuhi.

Maybe there was something to Cathy’s proclamation that the plant was ‘acting weird’ because the thing wasn’t even in bloom yet and the smell was overpowering. If it had been an option he would have opened one of the windows to let in some fresh air because the smell made it hard to breathe.

In the next room a splash of out of place color caught his eye. Despite the season a single, luridly pink bloom had opened on the shaving brush tree.

The color, too bright to be real, made him stop and stare. Its long, almost hair-like stamens shivered, sending a golden haze of pollen drifting lazily down and its stigma glistened wetly, drawing his eye to it.

It was captivating, the plant’s reproductive efforts unabashedly on display, inviting onlookers to stop and stare.

He had no clue how long he stared at the bloom, just that he had no sense of time passing until something snapped him out of it.

Dazed, he shook his head, the noise he’d heard taking far too long to register.

It had been the sound of something falling and shattering.

And it had come from the bonsai tree room

“Shit!”

Paul ran to the room, expecting to see one of the trees on the ground.

Bits of wood and clay lay on the floor in the middle of the walking path. Not one of the trees, but the shrine from the Bodhi tree laying on the floor in pieces.

“Shit.”

He swore again, quieter this time and with frustration rather than fear. In the morning he was going to have to explain what had happened when he had no clue.

Leaves rustled and amid the sound there was something else.

Laughter?

He called out, not sure what he’d do if there was an answer, “Hello?”

His voice echoed back at him, mockingly.

All other sounds were muffled by the greenery all around him and the storm raging on beyond the glass.

The conservatory felt like it could have been hundreds of miles from civilization with him stranded in complete isolation rather that a short sprint across the parking lot and then a quick drive to the main road.

He was alone, but he wasn’t trapped, or helpless, that’s what he told himself as he slowly walked past the Bodhi tree, trying to ignore the fact that the pot had been turned around again so that it was once again facing the correct way.

The thought occurred to him, as feverish as he felt, that he might have imagined it being the wrong way around and he didn’t like that idea. The last thing he needed was to get sick when he had an exam coming up.

In the tropical display the awapuhi was leaning over the path, green flower spike bobbing, the first hints lighter green fading to yellow on the scales that protected the blossom hinting at eventual bloom.

Earlier the smell had repulsed him, now it was though a magnet had been flipped and without being aware of what he was doing Paul started to move towards the plant.

Despite the scales of the flower spike still being tightly sealed nectar was seeping from them, forcing its way up between them and dripping onto the floor.

The shimmering drops pattered softly on the ground, like rain. Quiet as they were, somehow he could hear them over the noise of the storm outside.

There was something captivating, the nectar and scent serving their purpose of drawing one in.

The awapuhi seemed to tremble before him, as though with anticipation.

Paul hadn’t even noticed he was walking towards it, but now, if he wanted to continue he would need to push past it.

Always kept warmer than the rest of the conservatory, the air in the tropical display grew sweltering, the air around the awapuhi shimmering as though in the haze of summer heat. Its long, slender leaves shivered and hissed against each other as its stalks shook.

Shifting and flexing of their own volition the leaves moved in a way suggestive of hands and the motion in the air around it condensed into a solid form, dappled green and blending seamlessly into the leaves and branches around it.

Bright red eyes, the only thing that Paul could focus on clearly, blinked at him.

Slowly it brushed past the leaves, becoming more solid, more real, as it did so until it was blocking his way forward.

He’d found the intruder, but it wasn’t human.

Roughly human in form and proportions, its skin was all shades of green, long, raised lines running beneath it like the veins of leaves, in fact there were places along its shoulders and head where the leaves came through its skin, long and narrow, like those of the awapuhi. Whatever it was, it was was slender and lithe, like a cat had been poured into a human form and lost none of its grace in the process. Muscles shifted beneath its skin in a way that made their presence seem an afterthought.

Full lips parted, revealing small, even teeth, bright white and too abundant.

“Hello,” the creature purred cheerfully, motioning for Paul to come forward, off the path and towards the awapuhi. He nearly did, but then he looked again at the creature’s hand. It had too many fingers and they were tipped with claws rough and brittle looking as bark. Pleasant sounding as its voice may have been, half way between a buzz and a chirp, there was no mistaking that there was a predatory air to it.

“What are you doing here?” Paul asked, struggling to focus. He knew he should be frightened, or maybe incredulous, but he was having a hard time working up to either, not when the smell of the awapuhi made it so hard to focus.

If he could get out of the room he could open a window and get some fresh air. Maybe then he’d be able to focus, but the creature was in front of him.

Never once did it occur to him to turn around and go the other direction, or to back away so as not to take his eyes off the thing.

“I was brought here,” the intruder laughed, gesturing at the awapuhi plant, “Collected and carried from my home to this place of cold and ice.”

It shuddered, a motion mirrored by the awapuhi, its flower spikes bobbing up and down, drawing Paul’s eye to them.

And thinking of the awapuhi flower spikes…

Between the creature’s legs was something similar, green and scaled, giving them the appearance of being male, though its voice and proportions made Paul uncertain despite the obvious evidence to the contrary.

Paul shook his head, trying to look away from the obscene appendage, far too large for the creature.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” It asked with a shrug, “You’re smarter than you look then. How about I was tricked and captured? Sent here to a place where I shouldn’t be able to do harm. Does that sound more believable to you?”

He was hallucinating, that was the only explanation. He was sick with a fever bad enough that he was seeing things.

“What are you?” Sick enough that he was talking to the hallucination.

“Maybe not so smart,” red eyes narrowed in an expression of mocking disappointment, “But that’s fine. You’ll learn quick, I’m sure of that.”

It reached out and caressed one of the awapuhi’s flower spikes, the yellow pushing farther down the scales, deepening to the first hints of red along the edges, “Or you won’t. I don’t really care actually. I hope that’s not a disappointment to you, that I don’t care about you. At least not as you are.”

Something moved behind him and Paul started to turn around only for the creature to swipe its hand through the air as though clawing at something.

The movement drew Paul’s attention, as did the greenery closing in around them, blocking off the path in front and behind.

“I do not want interruptions,” it hissed, eyes narrowing, “This is not your place. It’s mine.”

It wasn’t talking to him, but through the leaves and branches that continued to twine into a living wall, he couldn’t see what else there was in the room.

“Mine!” The creature hissed like rain on leaves.

Then it smiled, as cloyingly sweet as the scent of the awapuhi.

A breeze blew through the room, shaking leaves and rattling branches, blowing the scent of the flowers out and away.

Paul blinked. The creature’s eyes were no longer so captivating and he could see the predatory desire in them, the unbridled and inhuman lust for violence or worse.

“Don’t you dare run.”

Before it could even finish speaking Paul was trying to force his way through the barrier of leaves blocking the path.

Whether any of this was real or not, he knew one thing with certainty, if he didn’t manage to escape something horrible would happen.

He ducked down, tried to force his way through a sheet of palm leaves that had woven themselves together. Their edges were sharp, cutting his hands when he grabbed them and pulled.

Several of the leaves tore, slapping across his face as they broke.

The impact stung, but there was a gap in the leaves, one that tightened around him as he was half way through, serrations on the leaves cutting through his shirt as the leaves closed in.

They held him, cutting him when he tried to struggle.

“You’re an impressive specimen of humanity,” the creature whispered in his ear, breath hot and sickeningly sweet, “Everything I like. _Everything_.”

Long fingers slipped up and under his shirt, the leaves holding him shifting just enough to allow it. Claws traced zig-zag patterns across his chest.

The things fingers moved in ways that would have been impossible for a human, spreading and moving independently, matching the preternatural dexterity with which the creature moved. Its touch wasn’t cold exactly, nor was it warm. If anything it was room temperature, the same as the plants surrounding them.

Ignoring the leaves, Paul tried to push away.

Claws and serrations on leaves alike dug in, tracing fine red lines across his skin, his shirt, already sticking to his skin from perspiration, clung more tightly as red lines spread across it.

As though reading his thoughts the creature chuckled throatily in his ear, “No escape for you. Not when you’re so warm and inviting. The feel of you reminds me of home. Even inland you could taste the salt of the sea.”

The creature’s tongue, thin and dry, brushed against the side of his face.

It laughed and the plants began to loosen their hold on him.

“In you I want to return home,” it whispered, guiding him backwards, out of the plants.

Once past them Paul tried to pull away, only for the creature’s grip to tighten.

Seemingly without effort it turned him around and threw him to the floor.

“You only think you want to get away,” it said as it crouched down above him, patting him gently on the shoulder. The fingers of its other hand rested on the top of his head, claws working their way down to his scalp, “Look though.”

The creature guided his head upwards.

The color of the awapuhi had further deepened. Bright red, the plant was in full bloom.

The inflorescence bobbed up and down despite there being no wind to disturb it, shimmering nectar dripping down. Most hit the floor, but a few drops splashed onto his face. His skin tingled where they hit, the sensation strange, but not exactly unpleasant.

Heavy with nectar, the bloom caused the stalk to bend under its weight, closer and closer to him.

More nectar hit his face and when he licked his dry lips he could taste the sweetness of it.

“Good, good,” the creature said, continuing to play with his hair, claws against his scalp tracing burning lines, “Lick it.”

Paul blinked, his throat suddenly unbearably dry. The nectar would be sweet and refreshing, undoubtedly as cool as the water it resembled.

The colors of the inflorescence seemed to grow brighter and more vibrant by the second, pulling his eyes to it and making it impossible to look away.

The flower was eager, that was the thought that came to him.

“Lick it,” the creature hissed, more urgently now.

He started to open his mouth, only to realize what he was doing and shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked together.

The scent of the flower was doing something to him, making him want things that he knew he didn’t want.

There was no telling what would happen if he actually tasted the nectar, not when the few drops that had already hit his skin made him burn with a heat he couldn’t explain. He’d hardly had a taste, and yet the moment he thought about it he longed for more.

And more. Thoughts that weren’t fully formed flitted in and out of his head, longing that matched that of the plant and the creature holding him.

The feverish head in his head spread steadily downwards, reaching his chest and making it hard to breath.

Still, he refused to open his mouth, certain that if he did far worse things were to come.

“Do it!” Those long, clawed fingers twined through Paul’s hair like vines, forcing his head forward towards the inflorescence. He shook his head and the fingers dug in tighter, pushing him until the flower spike bumped against his nose, filling it with the smell and leaving a spot of fragrant dampness against his skin.

“Lick it!”

More urgently this time, or maybe it just felt that way as the heat went lower and lower, reaching his stomach and making it churn.

The hiss of rain on leaves grew louder, pounding through his head. Paul could almost feel it on his skin, countless little touches against nerves that suddenly felt far too sensitive, as though his whole body was crying out from thirst.

The creature’s free hand went to his face, mercifully not its claws, but the pads of its fingers pressing against the sides of his mouth. He tried to resist as the creature’s grip grew painful, pulling his hair and pressing at his jaw so hard that he felt his teeth cut into the inside of his cheeks.

Suddenly the creature’s hand left his hair, darting downwards across his face, covering his eyes for a moment before pleasantly cool fingers pinched his nose shut.

Paul opened his mouth to gasp and it forced his open mouth down, onto the flower.

The slight pressure of his lips against the flower head was enough to send nectar flowing into his mouth. He struggled not to swallow, but it was impossible when there was so much of it and the creature was steadily forcing the bloom deeper and deeper in.

Against his will, as though the cool, clear liquid had a will of its own, it trickled down his throat.

The heat surged downward, blossoming into his crotch. Instantly his cock was at attention, throbbing painfully in his jeans.

The creature forced the flower another inch into his mouth and this time Paul didn’t simply swallow the nectar, he _sucked_.

Nectar poured from the flower, down his throat from what was already inside, and drenching his face, flowing down his chest from what was still outside of his mouth, which was less and less with each passing second.

Further and further into his mouth until the tip of the inflorescence bumped against the back of his throat. It was so large that his jaw ached from trying to open his mouth wide enough to take it and there were still several inches left to go.

The creature hissed excitedly, moving its hands again to that one could cup against the base of the flower, helping to guide it further.

Paul sputtered and gasped, nectar bubbling past his lips as he deepthroated the flower.

The creature let go of his head and Paul realized that he could pull away now, free himself.

The thought immediately left him when the creature traced its claws across his chest, opening shallow cuts that weren’t painful at all, not with the soothing nectar flowing over them.

Its taste was every bit as sickly sweet as its scent, which still made his head spin, but the sensation of it against his skin and down his throat made his cock throb and drove him to take more and more of the bloom into his mouth until, impossibly, his lips closed against the stem.

“Good, good,” the creature cooed to him, leaning to lick nectar from the corner of his mouth, “Doesn’t it feel so good?”

It didn’t, but with the plant filling his mouth he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was gasp and suck, nectar dribbling down his lips as the plant seemed to produce an endless amount of it, enough that the coolness of it in his stomach began to alleviate the burning heat he felt everywhere else.

For a time the heat and cool fought, sweat burning his eyes as he struggled to get more nectar out of the flower, harder and harder in the hopes that it might help somehow.

Behind him the creature snickered and pressed against him, something firm and cool pressing against the small of his back.

The coolness was starting to win, a sense of clearheadedness coming to Paul. He was still delirious, he was sure, because he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth and try to force the bloom from it. Instead he ran his tongue along the underside of it, feeling each scale flick against it as he pulled his tongue back. Then he pushed his tongue forward, probing what lay beneath the scales.

Something soft, like petals, the true flower hidden by the scales.

The creature gasped.

“Yes, yess,” it hissed through clenched teeth, its hands moving lower and lower, pressing against the crotch of his jeans. Without thinking Paul thrust against it and the heat returned full force. There was nothing the nectar could do to sooth the heat emanating from his crotch.

Never in his life had he felt anything like this, such an overwhelming need.

He fumbled with his belt and fly, but his hands were shaking too badly, the creature’s long fingers in the way, pressing and prodding so that he was unable to help thrusting, feeling the friction of nectar wet cloth against his burning skin.

Hissing like leaves in the wind and laughing like rain, the creature took matters into its own hands, claws deftly slicking through denim and slipping into his boxers. Long fingers curling bonelessly around his cock, bending in places where human hands had no joints and the creature began to stroke him. Its fingers were cool and smooth, sliding effortlessly against his skin.

The creature’s touch was light, too light for him to find the release he needed, even as its fingers coiled around his cock, more like vines than an actual hand. He thrust roughly against it, but those fingers were too soft and smooth, gripping just tight enough to tease and nothing more.

No longer needing to hold the bloom in place in Paul’s mouth, the creature let go and, after gently tousling Paul’s hair, it reached down and pulled away the shredded remains of Paul’s pants.

A claw traced down the cleft of Paul’s buttocks and he tensed, a small noise of fear slipping past the inflorescence filling his mouth and throat. Then the creature tightened its grip on his cock and Paul relaxed, he couldn’t help it, not when the thing’s touch felt so good, cool and soothing against his burning, throbbing cock.

To feel that inside him, cooling the new burning need that had started welling upside him was all he could think of.

He’d never taking anything up his ass before, but now he needed it, sure that the creature’s scaled, green cock would satisfy urges that until now he’d never experienced.

Something wet slid against him, slick, cool, nectar pouring down his ass, slicking his thighs.

It felt as good as he’d hoped, better even, and he found himself torn between thrusting frantically into the creature’s hand and pressing back against its cock.

The organ felt larger now, no longer so smooth, as though the scales had begun to lift.

With the flower in his mouth he couldn’t turn to look and the thought of spitting it out never came to him, not when the feeling of those scales against his skin made him want to probe into every nook and crevice of the bloom in his mouth, milking every drop of nectar from it, because it seemed like the endless flow was finally diminishing. He had to work to get the nectar now, pressing and flicking his tongue against the blooms, seeking what he needed so badly.

Dripping with nectar, the creature’s organ pressed against him, the tip slowly finding its way inside him.

Paul moaned and involuntarily tensed. The cold pressure was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

“Relax and you’ll get more,” the creature said softly.

Paul tried to comply, struggled not to thrust into its hand and instead press back against its cock.

He could feel each scale pressing against him as the creature penetrated him. The creature took its time, gently pushing in, its efforts made easy by the nectar dripping from its scaled cock, so slick and soothing.

The creature’s cock was thick, far wider around than any human organ, but Paul took it eagerly, hardly minding the discomfort of being penetrated by something so large when each inch of it brought a wonderful, soothing coolness to his insides. He clenched around it, feeling nectar gush into him and then he relaxed with a contented sigh against the bloom in his mouth.

Further and further into him, cooling him from the inside out, leaving it so that the only discomfort was from his cock, still burning with need, as though all of the heat were concentrated there. 

Finally he felt the creature’s hips against him.

The creature’s cock was fully inside him.

He expected to feel them pull back and thrust, but instead something unexpected happened.

The creature’s cock, already large, began to grow inside him. The scales on it spread, he could feel them opening and pushing against the inside of him, holding the organ in place.

There should have been pain as the feeling of pressure and fullness grew, but instead there was a rush of indescribable sensation. In a moment of realization that took his breath away Paul understood what was happening, the creature’s cock was a flower, just like that of the awapuhi and it was blooming inside him.

Placing its hands on his hips, claws gently, but not too gently, scratching his skin, the creature began to withdraw.

Each scale flicked against him in a separate, distinct sensation and Paul tensed around it. The creature moaned in response. Shuddering against him, it dug its claws in deeper making Paul moan as well, but the pain quickly vanished as nectar from the creature’s bloom began to trickle down Paul’s legs.

The inflorescence of the creature opened wider, flowers emerging from between the scales to tickle at Paul in places inside him that he’d never imagined were so sensitive.

The trickle of nectar increased to a steady flow as the creature withdrew completely, rubbing its dripping organ against him, smearing his ass and thighs with nectar.

He could feel how large the bloom was as the creature slid it back and forth against him. It was impossible to imagine that it had been inside him, but when the creature lined themselves up again Paul pressed back against it, feeling the tip of the flower. It was so much larger now, and, paradoxically, softer, the scales folding easily back into place as it slid back inside him, though Paul had the feeling that, with how slick he was with nectar and how badly he wanted it, he would have been able to take it.

The creature began to thrust, pulling back so that its cock was almost free and then pushing in with a rush of nectar.

Paul couldn’t imagine struggling, even as the creature began to trace its claws up and down his back, drawing jagged, zig-zagging patterns. There was heat as blood welled up and flowed down his skin, but his response to the pain was to push back against the creature’s cock and tense to better feel it inside him, the pressure and feeling of nectar flowing in response to his efforts driving away all pain.

And all thought.

He was dimly aware of his own throbbing cock, but never thought to bring his hands to it, despite it throbbing painfully hard in time with the creature’s thrusts. The sensation of it inside him was all that he could focus on, even the scent of the flower seeming to fade in and out.

The taste of it though, that he was aware of, sucking harder and circling his tongue against the inflorescence in his mouth, identical to the one possessed by the creature that he was rocking back against.

“Do you like the feel of me inside you?” The creature hissed.

Paul nodded, as best as he was able, and muttered around the inflorescence in his mouth. He _did_ like the feel of it, couldn’t imagine not liking it, not when it felt like it was a part of him, a part that existed only to cause pleasure.

The creature thrust, harder this time, and Paul moaned, nectar bubbling past his lips, even as he frantically tried to swallow it all. He needed it, needed the feel of the creature inside him as surely as he needed to breath.

“You do?” Claws circled the base of his cock, then flicked up his chest to trace back and forth, smearing the nectar that had dripped there from his mouth.

Again he nodded.

“Say it then.”

Paul struggled to get the words out around the flower, to force his tongue to do anything other than press and rub against the scales in search of more nectar.

The creature began to withdraw and Paul clenched his muscles down around its cock, anticipating the agonizing pleasure that would come with its thrusting back in.

The creature kept pulling back.

“If you like it so much say it.”

Then it withdrew completely.

Paul screamed around the flower in his mouth at the sudden, horrible feeling of emptiness.

He needed to feel that cock inside him, the pressure, the nectar inside him, trapped by the girth of the creature’s cock rather than escaping from him to flow freely down his legs.

“Say it.”

The creature’s hand was back at his cock, wet with nectar. Fingers curled, loosely, the touch barely there. Paul thrust, hoping that its cool touch would sooth the burning agony coursing through him.

Fingers tightened around him like a vine around a tree.

Paul threw his head back and screamed.

It hurt!

More than anything he could imagine it hurt.

The creature pulled him away from the flower, though the scent lingered in his nose, the taste on his lips, and held him tightly as he thrashed.

“Do you need me inside you?”

“Yes!” Paul cried out, “Oh god yes!”

Anything to make the pain stop.

“Do you think I care about what you need?” The creature laughed then squeezed his cock harder.

It didn’t, Paul realized with a whimper.

“What I want is far more important,” with each word the creature gave his cock a gentle, but still painful squeeze, the nectar on its hands doing little to sooth the pain, “And what I want it to feel your wonderful, smooth human cock inside me.”

Unable to help himself he thrust into its hand. It hurt, but the tingling sensation that the nectar brought was almost relief.

Almost.

The creature’s grip loosened and Paul thrust harder.

“No,” it chastised mockingly, “This isn’t about what you need. Can you give me what I want?”

Could he though? His cock hurt so badly, ached for release and he needed the creature’s cock so badly. Not having it inside him brought on such a profound feeling of loss, as though a part of him had been cut away.

“Will you…,” he gasped, horrified by the way his voice shook and even more horrified by what he was about to ask, “If I…”

The creature let go of him entirely.

“Maybe.”

It knew, the damned thing knew.

Now his hands went to his cock, pulsing from need, but when he wrapped his fingers around it there was burning pain. It was too sensitive for him to touch and burning hot.

The nectar though, maybe that would help.

Closing his eyes in horror at what he was doing, Paul reached back, his hand shaking, to wet his fingers with the nectar still dripping from him.

The memory of the creature’s cock inside him and the aching feeling of loss made him probe deeper, fingering himself frantically, searching for one of the places that the creature had found inside him.

He couldn’t.

Whimpering, he withdrew his fingers and stared down his cock, still and throbbing.

He stared as his hand, fingers slick with nectar, and for an insane moment, had to fight the urge to lick them clean.

He stared at the creature.

It stared back at him, red eyes bright and cheerful and far too knowing.

Hand shaking harder than ever, he tried to stroke his cock.

The nectar helped, but it wasn’t enough.

“So?” The creature tilted its leafy head.

Then it turned around and presented themselves to him.

The idea was terrifying, but there was no other choice that Paul could see.

Slick with pre and smeared with nectar Paul’s cock slid easily into the creature. It was cool and tight and absolutely inhuman feeling. He could feel muscles squeeze down on him, but there was no pain.

Sighing with relief he began to thrust.

Fucking the creature was like fucking water. Water that coiled around his cock like vines, tighter and tighter and then released, gently tickling like leaves.

The creature gasped and moaned and laughed as Paul thrust harder and harder, desperately seeking relief.

He could feel himself growing nearer and nearer to climax, finally, and he picked up his pace.

The coolness of the nectar fading from everywhere but his cock, sweat dripped down Paul’s skin, stinging his eyes and plastering his hair to his forehead.

The cuts the creature had inflicted on him burned, but he kept going, desperate for release.

Harder and faster, the creature rocking against him, wiggling and squirming and making him grit his teeth as agony and pleasure fought.

He could feel himself getting tired, the creature doing more and more of the work as it bounced on his cock.

“Harder,” it said cheerfully, not sounding breathless at all despite its exertions.

Paul tried, his balls tight and aching.

He needed to come so badly, but try as he might, and as good as it felt to fuck the creature, he remained painfully on the edge of climax.

“Is something wrong?” It asked playfully, pressing back against him, something that definitely wasn’t anything resembling human muscles clenching around his cock so hard he saw stars and was sure that he was going to come.

Except he didn’t.

The creature relaxed and Paul went back to thrusting, exhaustion beginning to take hold.

He couldn’t stop though, not when he was so close.

His efforts grew weaker and weaker, until finally he slumped down against the creature’s back, too tired to move.

And still his cock twitched and pulsed.

The creature tensed and relaxed around him before sighing.

“And you were so close too,” it wiggled its shoulders, leaves tickling Paul’s chest as he lay against it, “If you’d gone just a bit longer I’m sure you could have done it. Such a shame.”

It shifted its weight, starting to shrug out from beneath him.

“Please,” Paul begged, not sure what he was asking for.

“I do wish you’d been able to satisfy me,” it sighed, sounding more amused than upset, “Then I might have let you come and we could have done this again. Instead things are going to play out the way they always do.”

The creature pulled off of him and turned gracefully to face him.

Exposed to the air Paul’s cock tingled, pins and needles like a limb that had fallen asleep.

He looked down at it, slick red from use.

Something was wrong.

Beneath his skin he could see shapes, the outlines of something.

Something disturbingly familiar.

His cock twitched and the tingling became painful.

The red grew deeper, beyond it merely being flush with blood, and the shapes beneath his skin grew more distinct, scales like that of the awapuhi’s bloom.

“You’ll end up just another addition to my garden,” the creature gestured languidly at the awapuhi then smiled, showing so very many teeth, “Back home I had such an impressive garden so I don’t mind starting again.”

The scent of the awapuhi reached him again, sent a stab of pleasure through his cock that brought with it clarity.

The longing he’d felt, all the urgency and desire hadn’t been his. The scent of the flower had carried it to him, made him feel as if it was his own.

The creature laughed, reaching out to fondle the bloom, which glistened wetly, still full of unfulfilled need.

Paul’s cock throbbed in time with his pulse, the shape of the scales beneath his skin growing more pronounced with every beat of his heart. All up and down his back and arms the cuts the creature had inflicted on him itched and burned. When he scratched at his arm he felt something smooth and sharp.

Long, thin leaves were braking though his skin, pushing out through the cuts and he could see the outlines of more beneath his skin, moving and straining like a plant pushing up towards the light.

“Please,” Paul begged, holding out his hands to the creature, seeing the dark green shadows of leaves beneath the skin there, shapes pressing up against the skin, “Make it stop.”

The creature shrugged and took his hand in its, tracing the outline of one of the leaves with a single, razor sharp claw, freeing the leave, which rose up, green and shining with wetness too thin and clear to be blood. Paul tried to pull back, but the creature’s grip tightened into an inescapable hold.

“I could,” it sighed dramatically, tracing its claw across his skin to free another leave, further up his arm, “But I don’t think I will. You were amusing, but not enough for my taste and adding you to my garden is far more entertaining than letting you go.”

Without warning it released his arm and Paul stumbled backwards, falling down amid the greenery.

Paul tried to crawl backwards, away from the creature but the plants around him worked to block his way, trying to force him back from the path and towards a small clearing in a planter, hidden away in a corner where it wasn’t likely to be noticed. The soil there was disturbed, piled up around a shallow hole as though someone had prepared it for a new planting.

The leaves growing from his arms tangled with those of the plants around him, pulling painfully with every move and he could feel more of them on his back, peeling his shirt off of his skin.

If he was pushed back to the place the creature had readied for him he was doomed.

Lent strength by fear, Paul pushed himself to his feet and took a step forwards.

Immediately a leafy branch reached out and slapped him across the cock, causing him to double over in pain.

It was too sensitive, even the feeling of the air around it made it tingle with pain and pleasure.

Paul leaned forward, trying to protect his throbbing cock, and continued to press forward.

The plants around him shook and then seemed to pull back, leaving an opening to the path.

Was it a trap?

The plants around him trembled, as though caught in an unseen storm.

Somewhere, out of sight, the creature sighed irritably, “This isn’t funny, and besides, he’s mine now.”

A small shadow darted across the path in front of him and Paul’s first thought that it was a rat, but then another appeared and another, running back and forth.

No, not running he realized, lunging and then being thrown back.

“How many times have I told you?” the creature appeared in the cleared area, leaves shaking with rage as it glared down at the ground, “Stay out of my garden!”

It kicked at one of the little things, but instead of being sent flying it clung to his foot.

“Relax.”

The single word was spoken in a dry crack, like a dead branch breaking and, even though it wasn’t meant for him, Paul felt its power.

The throbbing pain stopped for just a moment and he was able to take a single step forward.

Then another.

And another.

The effect on the creature was far more dramatic, its leaves spread wider and it slumped down, human form wavering amid the greenery growing from them.

It turned, red eyes amid the leaves locking with his.

“I don’t think I will,” it hissed, and took a step off of the walking path.

Immediately they grew solid again.

“This is my garden!”

It stomped its foot down, but the thing holding onto them had already let go and rolled out of the way, back onto the path.

“It is your garden,” another voice spoke in a quavering whisper, thin and reedy, “But the path belongs to none of us.”

Paul managed another step forward before the branches closed in around him again.

He was almost there.

Leaves tangled around his ankles, pulling him to the floor when he tried to move.

Landing hard on his hands and knees, Paul had the wind knocked out of him when a branch reached out, missing his cock, but catching him squarely across the stomach.

Through the leaves he could see the path and a small form standing on it, frantically waving him forward.

It was another creature, squat and ugly as the first had been beautiful.

The new creature looked like it was poorly carved from wood, barely resembling a human form, features weathered and deeply grooved, but there was something kind about it.

Leaves lashed around it, but didn’t touch it.

“A little further,” it said, holding out a hand.

“He’ll never make it,” the creature stepped forward to loom over it, “Humans are weak willed.”

“You’d think that,” the smaller creature laughed, and though their voice was without gender, the laugh had some quality to it that struck Paul as masculine and very old. Suddenly Paul could see the little creature as a kindly grandfather and the first creature was an impatient, angry child.

“Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing,” the first creature snapped.

But Paul had already managed to crawl that one last step forward.

His hand fell on the walking path.

He was safe!

Or so he thought.

The little creature, barely a foot tall, reached out for him with twisted, branch like fingers to put a comforting hand on his.

“No,” the first creature stepped forward and stomped down on Paul’s hand, grinding its heel down.

Paul screamed, feeling bones grind and leaves break.

More of the wizened little creatures gathered, weathered and stooped figures like old men and women, staring up at the first creature, but not doing anything.

The first creature, a giant compared to them, lifted its foot, seemed to consider kicking then thought better of it and took a single step backwards.

Paul sobbed and cradled his injured hand against his chest, through it all his cock throbbing. Through the haze of pain he realized that this was not some fairytale game, there were no rules and there was no magical way to safety. If he wanted to escape he needed to manage it inch by grueling inch.

Sure enough, when he managed to drag himself farther onto the path the smaller creatures shuffled backwards, moving between him and the first creature, but other than that they made no move to help.

“You won’t make it,” the first creature scoffed, crossing its leafy arms over its chest. Its cock, bright and in full bloom, bobbed above him.

Nectar dripped from between the flower’s scales and the scent reached him.

For a moment the pain dulled and Paul was seized with the impulse to rise to his knees and take the creature’s flower like organ in his mouth. It would feel good, he was sure.

The creature licked its lips, green tongue curling in a decidedly lewd fashion.

Or no, he could lay back against the cool ground and let the creature suck his cock. He was sure that its mouth would sooth the pain, satisfy the need he felt.

Unthinkingly his fingers went to his cock, feeling the bumps and textures that shouldn’t have been there, just beneath the skin and pressing steadily closer to the surface. Like the leaves, they wanted to break through.

“Do you even want to?” The creature smiled, gently stroking its cock, inviting him to take it in his mouth.

He wanted…

Paul shook his head, trying to figure out what he wanted, the pain to stop, that much he was sure of, but how? If he escaped…

The creature was so much nearer than freedom though, and its cock looked so wonderful, so inviting. It would feel so good in his mouth, like the awapuhi’s flower had, or up his ass. Pressing on places inside him that only the creature knew how to find and seemed to exist to give him pleasure, that only the creature’s bloom could reach. Could he even hope to give himself such bliss?

Then he thought of the awapuhi itself, bloom dripping with unsatisfied need, a need so strong that he’d felt it as his own.

If he went back to the creature that was what waited for him.

His fingers tightened around his cock and he cried out as it compressed in a way that it shouldn’t have been able to. There was a feeling so intense that for a fleeting moment Paul thought he was finally coming as nectar dripped from his cock.

Paul moaned and pulled himself fully onto the path, nectar flowing from his cock in a steady trickle that brought no release.

No relief.

“A little further,” one of the small creatures urged. The rest nodded.

They moved so that they stood on either side of him, guarding and urging him on with soft words of encouragement and kind smiles.

He followed them, tried to focus on them rather than the ache that grew worse by the second as his painfully erect cock bobbed with every move he made, nectar flowing down his thighs.

If he could only get it out, then maybe…

He grabbed his cock and squeezed again, feeling the scales beneath his skin more clearly.

Nectar spurted like come, spattering clear on the ground. His balls tensed and more nectar flowed, but it was nothing like coming, just ever mounting pleasure.

Ignoring the pain he tried to jack himself off even as he crawled towards the bonsai room.

Behind him the creature laughed.

“That’s mine now!” It mocked, “Don’t think you’ll ever find release again unless _I_ decide to give it to you.”

Paul gritted his teeth, tears stinging his eyes. His cock was so full of nectar, so much of it that it hurt and kept him from coming, despite how his balls ached. He was so close, so very close, but each stroke just brought forth more nectar.

He trembled with exertion, the leaves growing from his arms rustling as he struggled down the path, cock in hand, leaving a trail of nectar behind him.

All around him the little creatures reached out, encouraging him, but never touching him.

Behind him he could hear the first creature, walking slowly up behind him.

“It’s mine. Watch.”

Paul didn’t look, but he could feel the scales beneath his skin open wider, flowers begin to press out, but unlike the leaves they couldn’t break the skin, not yet at least. The pressed back against his hand as he squeezed, the pain he felt was all his, but the pleasure, while there was faint, distant.

It wasn’t going to him, but to the creature.

“Any pleasure you feel now is because I let you.”

Like that it was gone, just pressure and fullness inside his cock, so heavy with nectar that it could hardly stay erect. More leaves pushed out of his skin, the pain nearly blinding him.

The flower, if he could…

He tried to stroke himself, but his cock hurt too much. Instead he fondled his balls, trying to massage the soreness out of them. They were so full, so tender, like the nectar was flowing back into them.

“A little farther,” one of the little creatures, a wrinkled old man with flaking and deeply creased bark for skin urged.

Paul looked up, saw that he was almost to the bonsai room and managed to scrabble a desperate last few feet across the threshold.

He turned to look at the creature as they walked up to the door and leaned against the doorway.

“Well, you made it farther than I thought,” then it turned to the smaller creatures, “You’ve won this time.”

The creature winked at him and walked back to towards the awapuhi plant, fading into the greenery and vanishing. The plant rustled and shook, then was still as though nothing had happened.

Paul stared at the place where the creature had been, waiting for something to happen, for the leaves to vanish from his arms or to fall away and for the ache in his cock to subside.

Neither happened.

One of the new creatures, small and twisted as any of the bonsai trees approached him with a sigh.

Because he was laying down the creature was able to look him in the eye.

“We tried to warn you,” the little creature’s voice was oddly accented, dry and inhuman as his pale, weathered looking skin, “Now the most we can do is help you along. Try to relax.”

The little creature reached out and rested a twig-like hand, dry and cool, on Paul’s arm between the leaves growing there.

“What’s happening,” Paus whispered, afraid and in pain, “What did it do to me?”

“That one’s insane,” the creature who’d spoken earlier said sternly, “They think only of themselves and their own amusement.”

Stooped over so that they were bent almost in double, they shuffled slowly over closer to him. From the look of them they should have been in pain, but clearly wasn’t, smiling despite the gravity of their pronouncement.

Up close Paul could see that their patchy green hair resembled pine needles. In fact he could see a small cluster of waxy, blue looking berries amid those needles.

Looking around he realized that the number of creature matched the number of bonsai trees.

“Relax,” they said, in a much softer tone than they had used with the other creature earlier.

He nodded, leaves rustling.

Despite the leaves continuing to push through his skin Paul hoped that his ordeal was over, that they’d somehow set things right.

The bonsai creatures surrounded him, resting their hands on his arms and legs, one even brushing his hair away from his eyes. Their skin was rough and bark like, a sharp contrast to the smoothness of the first creature, but their touch was gentle.

Slowly they ran their hands along the edges of the leaves.

Paul expected that the foliage would wither or shrink back into him and it seemed to at first, the leaves growing smaller, smoother in shape, shrinking from wide, flat blades and splitting into three lobed shapes.

“They’re not…” Paul whimpered at the leaves pushed further out of him, clusters of them on thin vines. It did hurt less, as though they were pulling the pain out of him as they spread and grew, but they weren’t going away.

One of the creatures nodded, slightly taller than the others and painfully thin looking, “It put some of its madness into you, tried to make you like it. It’s a powerful madness, too dangerous to take out, but we can change it.”

Vines pushed out further, up and down from beneath his shirt, tickling against his skin.

The small creatures caressed the vines, ran their hands along the edges of the leaves.

Paul realized that he could feel their touch and in response to that realization the vines curled away from the little creatures. They were a part of him now.

His eyes drifted to his cock.

The flow of nectar had slowed, the pain fading, but the need remained.

Nervously he ran a finger along it.

The scales were less pronounced, seeming to shrink away from his touch. The bright, unnatural red color that had begun to show beneath the skin began to fade, but not back to flesh color.

As he watched his cock went from the red of the awapuhi bloom to a soft green, the heat fading to a pleasant tingling.

“One last thing to fix,” one of the little creatures laughed good naturedly, climbing up to sit on Paul’s thigh, “Soon enough this will be yours again.”

Paul flinched as they reached out and took his cock in both their hands and began to rub it.

Under their touch his cock began to shrink. It wasn’t going flaccid, far from it with how sensitive it still felt, but it grew smaller and smaller until it was a tight, green bud.

There were more buds he realized, amid the vines growing from him. Paul reached out to touch one amid the vines growing from his left arm.

It felt the same as touching his cock.

In fact he could feel himself getting hard.

Except there was no rush of blood or feeling of the bud growing.

It did grow though, petals loosening until it unfurled into full bloom. Twin rows of pale blue petals around striped filaments, multipronged stigma and anthers standing proudly in the center.

The bud that had replaced his cock bloomed similarly, as did the rest of the buds amid his vines.

There were so many of them and he had no idea where to start.

Or how.

He looked at the little creature sitting on his thigh, but all they did was pat him on the leg and hop off.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” They smiled up at him, “And you’ve got such lovely flowers now.”

It did feel better, and when he ran a finger along the center of one of the blooms it felt better still.

Ignoring the creatures, Paul reached down to stroke the bloom between his legs.

The feeling was similar, but it was nothing like his cock. Some places felt better to touch than others, but he had no idea what to do, where to start.

His balls still ached and he still felt the desperate need to come. There was nothing left stopping him, that much he was sure of, other than his own lack of understanding.

“Do you need some help?” A new voice chimed in, deep and husky.

Paul looked up and saw a tall, powerful form leaning against the shaving brush tree.

She, for despite the fact that she was taller than him, muscular and flat chested, there was no doubt that the creature was female with the way she carried herself, the slight sway to her hips as she walked, had pale white skin and luridly bright pink hair on her head, the same color as the out of season bloom on the tree. She had another bloom as well though, a tuft of the same bright pink filaments at her snatch.

“I think we’re managing just fine,” the little bonsai creature said cheerfully to the new arrival.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said, her little, upturned nose wrinkling in amusement, a yellow haze of pollen drifting around her face, “I was talking to our new friend here.”

She winked playfully at Paul and he managed to smile back at her.

She was almost cute in a kind of butch way, if such a thing was possible, but more than that, something about her tone made Paul think that, if she’d been human, she would be the kind of person who ended up being friends with everyone.

“Can you fix this?” Paul held out his vine covered hands to her. There were more flowers and buds now and the vines were still growing.

“Sorry,” she frowned, more pollen falling down to dust her pale shoulders, “You got messed up pretty bad. Bad enough that I don’t think that even if everyone here were to work together we’d be able to put you back to being fully human. I can help you learn how to be what you are now though.”

“If you can’t fix me what’s going to happen?” Paul demanded, the gravity of his situation finally dawning on him, “I can’t let people see me like this.”

Paul rose to his feet, the small creatures jumping and shuffling to get out of his way.

“You’ve never seen any of us before tonight, right?” She asked.

It was a question that he actually had to think about. There had been plenty of times that he’d seen things out of the corner of his eye and dismissed them as his imagination, or rats.

“I don’t think so,” was the best answer he could manage. After all he’d been through there were a lot of things he couldn’t be sure of.

“See,” she said, brushing pollen from her shoulders, “There’s no reason to worry about what people will think of you.”

He nodded, not sure if he believed her. Right now all he knew was that he wanted to be as far from the awapuhi as he could. As far from any of the plants actually.

“I’m going back to the desk,” he said quickly, ready to run if she or any of the others tried to do anything.

“If that’ll make you more comfortable,” was her response. The little creatures has all moved away, retreating back to their respective bonsai trees.

None of them made any attempt to stop him as he started making his way out of the room. That made him feel better, like he was on his way to being back in control of things again.

It wasn’t easy going, his legs were tired, muscles sore from what he’d endured, and the trailing vines kept getting in the way, tangling with each other and his legs.

When he stumbled she caught him before he could hit the floor.

“Take it easy,” she put an arm around his shoulder to steady him, “I said I’d help you so right now I’ll help you back to the office. We can sit down and talk there until you feel better.”

She was strong, effortlessly supporting his weight as he leaned heavily against her. It wasn’t a surprise though, she was taller than him, stocky and strong, much like the shaving brush tree that she resembled.

“I…” he stopped, losing his train of thought as some of the vines growing from his arms began to twine around her, helping him hold on, “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured, tilting her head to look at a flower that had just opened on one of the vines curling around her shoulder, “It’s a lot for you to get used to, I get that.”

“Did this…” he looked at her bright pink hair, her rough skin, “Happen to you too?”

“What?” she looked at him, dark eyes wide, “Oh no. But I remember my first winter here. The snow terrified me because well… It’s not right for it to get so cold out that rain freezes.”

She looked up and shuddered.

“That’s not really the same,” Paul scowled. He could tell that she wasn’t making light of his situation, but the comparison wasn’t a good one. Snow was just weather and what had happened to him…

“Easy for you to say,” she smiled at him, “You’ve had to deal with it for your whole life. Until I was brought here I’d never seen it or even heard of it. Believe me, snow’s scary the first time you see it. Just like I bet you think we’re frightening.”

He couldn’t argue that given his first encounter with the creature. He had a feeling if it had been the bonsai creatures or her it wouldn’t have been so bad. Or her at least, the bonsai trees still unnerved him, even if the creatures that lived in the room with him didn’t seem that bad. They were strange, but they weren’t menacing.

It was slow going back to the office, even with her helping him. Moving became more and more difficult as the vines continued to grow and the flowers were a constant distraction. He found himself stopping to rub at a slowly opening bud or trace his fingers across the center of a flower, trying to figure them out.

Touching them felt good and some ways felt better than others, but there were so many of them that he didn’t know what to do. Where was he even supposed to start?

“Careful, you’ve got to take it easy,” she took his hand in hers when he prodded too hard at one of the flowers and winced. They were sensitive, in some places surprisingly so, “Let’s get you situated.”

Holding onto his hands, she guided him to the desk and pulled out the chair there for him.

He tried to pull away from her and sit down on his own, but about halfway down his legs buckled and he started to fall. She caught him and helped him down into the chair.

“Really, relax,” she smiled at him, “I’m trying to help you. You just sit there and let me get you some water.”

She took a mug off of the desk and went to the restrooms.

Paul stared at the phone, wondering if he should call someone and if he did what he’d even say.

Because when he thought about it, saying that he’d been attacked by a plant creature sounded crazy, right up until he looked at the vines growing out of him. He had proof of what had happened, but even then he didn’t know what to do. If something like this had happened before he was sure that he’d have heard about it.

He was still staring at the phone when she returned and handed him the mug of water.

His hands were shaking and it took both of them to hold the mug steady. Even then he spilled some down his front. It was warm and tasted of stale coffee that must have dried on the bottom of the mug, but he still drank it in one go, surprised at how thirsty he was.

“Do you need more?” She knelt down to look him in the eye, keeping the desk between him and her.

It was clear that she was trying not to be frightening to him and he appreciated that, because as strange looking as she was, especially after what he’d been through, she could have been terrifying.

He looked at her, her dark eyes looking almost black against her pale skin. If not for the hair she could have been something out of a horror movie, but she didn’t frighten him.

She should have though.

“Are you…” he hesitated, not sure if she’d answer honestly or if he even wanted an answer, “Doing something to me to make me not afraid?”

“Maybe?” she shrugged, sounding confused, “I never really learned any tricks like that. I just, I don’t know, like people. You’re all so interesting to watch. So maybe you can sense that. Some of you are more perceptive than others and you seem like the kind who could see things even before all of this.”

Maybe hadn’t been the answer he was looking for, but at least she wasn’t lying to him. Whether or not she was right in thinking he was any more perceptive than most people, he could tell she was telling the truth.

“Thanks,” he said, not sure what he was thanking her for. The water? Telling the truth? Being friendly?

She nodded and looked down, “Let me get you some more water, that couldn’t possibly have been enough.”

Taking the mug from him she went to do as she’d said.

The water had seemed to help. He did feel a little more clear headed and after the next mug full he felt like he could focus, even if what he could focus on was how uncomfortable he was. His shirt was stuck to him with blood and sap and who knew what else, pressing down on the vines that had grown beneath it. Then there were the vines themselves, he could feel them growing, though that growth had slowed and the flowers itched. Except that wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t like he wanted to scratch at them, it was just that he wanted to touch them, or have someone else touch them.

Unconsciously his hands drifted to them.

Her eyes flowed the movement and he froze.

“You really don’t know what to do, do you?” She asked quietly.

Paul shook his head. He had no clue what so ever.

“Are you sure you can’t fix me?”

She frowned, “You’re about as fixed as you can be for now. I mean you’re not helpless addition to the awapuhi’s garden. You’ve still got your mind to yourself and you’re, well, you. Those are your flowers, not anyone else’s.”

He looked down at the flowers. His or not, he should have had them in the first place, and he said as much.

That seemed to surprise her.

“What the awapuhi did to you was try and make you into something you weren’t. The flowers you have now, they’re what you’d have had if you’d always been this way,” she started to reach out for one, then caught herself and pulled her hand back, “You just need to get used to them.”

“I don’t want to get used to them,” he said, knowing that what he wanted didn’t matter much at this point. He had them and he needed to figure out what to do about them.

Thinking of them made Paul shift in the chair. He couldn’t lean back because pressure on the vines was uncomfortable, but leaning forward made his shirt pull on them, especially in the places where it was still stuck to him.

“Maybe you’ll feel better if we get you cleaned up some,” she suggested hopefully.

It was a short term answer, but it wouldn’t hurt.

Paul stood up, leaning against the desk for a moment as he tested his balance. He was still unsteady on his feet, but he didn’t need help stepping away from the desk and walking to the bathrooms, which he was willing to accept as progress.

She walked alongside him, hands inches away, ready to catch him if he started to fall, but not touching him, which he appreciated.

What he didn’t appreciate was that she followed him into the bathroom.

“You don’t need to be here,” he said as he turned on the tap, “I can do this on my own.”

Except it turned out he couldn’t. Just turning on the tap had taken more effort than it should have, the vines on his arms and hands getting in the way. It felt like he had some control over them and he could get them to move out of the way, but those movements were awkward and uncoordinated, the vines tending to wrap around anything he touched, like the tap when he tried to collect water in his cupped hands. Getting the vines to unwrap themselves caused him to spill most of the water and after several attempts he was forced to give up.

“Please let me help you,” she said softly, “You’ve had a really bad night.”

That was an understatement to say the least, but her concern was clearly genuine, as was her want to help.

He stepped out of the way as best as he was able and let her carefully pour handfuls on warm water down his back and chest as he leaned over the sink. The water was soothing, washing away sap and dried blood. His skin no longer itched so badly, but that only meant there was less to distract him from the sensations coming from the vines and flowers.

She looked at him, silently asking permission, and he nodded because he’d already let her help as much as she had.

She eased her hands up under his shirt, working her fingers back and forth around the areas where it was still stuck to his skin.

He could feel the vines there weaving between her fingers, not just the motion, but actually feel them wrapping around her. She’d been right about them being his, he could feel through them almost the same as he could with his hands and her touch was comforting.

She kept at it, taking her time and somehow managing to never once pull at the vines, despite them seeming to always move to get in her way, until his shirt came loose from where it had been stuck.

Getting it off proved to be another challenge entirely and again she helped, carefully pulling it up over his head and, after asking permission, guiding his vines out as well.

The vines being vines, started to wrap further around her hands and arms, but she ignored them, as though this was something perfectly normal, and maybe to her it was. Paul realized that, not knowing what the creatures were, he had no idea what they thought of as normal.

After she got the last of the vines disentangled from his shirt she took a small step back, some of his vines still wrapped around her hands, holding them together, because, he realized, he didn’t want to let go. After the night he’d had he was shaken and afraid and she was strong and seemed to radiate dependability. She was, despite being whatever she was, an island of stability in an otherwise crazy experience.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, letting his vines twine around her arms.

Paul nodded. Having the vines free where they could spread and weren’t held down by his shirt did help. Their being constrained by his clothing had been a discomfort so minor that he hadn’t noticed it until it was gone.

With her helping him to hold the vines in place, he was able to wash his face in the sink, cleaning away the last traces of the awapuhi’s nectar.

He did feel better and that was a start.

He was still tired and sore, he could feel where the vines were growing and the sensation of new leaves unfurling was strange, but he felt better.

The flowers though, they tingled more strongly than ever, especially now that his vines were free and he realized just how many of them there were.

“You’ll get used to it,” she looked down at the vines wrapping around her arms, “You really will. And it’s not bad having flowers like that.”

Another flower was starting to open from the vines twining around her fingers, its petals just starting to unfurl and she lifted her hand, bringing it close to her face to exhale softly against it.

Paul shuddered at the feeling.

“If you want I can try to help you with them,” she offered, “Or we can just talk. I bet you’ve got a lot of questions.”

He did have a lot of questions.

And a lot of flowers as well.

She must have noticed the way that he was staring at the flower on his hand because she smiled at him.

“Those are some very fun looking flowers you have and if you’d let me I really wouldn’t mind…”

He nodded.

After everything else he’d been through letting her _help_ with the flowers, his flowers, didn’t seem that bad.

She grinned at him, sticking out her tongue to quickly flick it across the flower.

Another shudder ran through him and he braced himself against her.

She held him up against her with one strong arm, her free hand flitting nimbly from flower to flower with a feather light touch.

It wasn’t that bad, not at all.

In fact, it was something that he thought he might be able to get used to. Vines wrapping around her, he let her pick him up and carry him out of the restroom.

\---

In the morning the conservatory has two new mysteries – what exactly had happened to Paul and where did the fully grown passion flower vine, in full bloom, wound around the shaving brush tree come from?


End file.
